NCIS Drabbles
by Chicken Scratchings
Summary: Various characters, genres and situations. UPDATE: Ducky, Gibbs - Fashion
1. TonyGuilt

_**Drabble challenge on the NCIS ff forum. Character- Tony. Prompt- Guilt.  
>First attempt at something like this so feedback appreciated. :) Also, if you have any prompts for a drabble, just let me know in a review or message and I'll give it a shot.<br>Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine. Not now, not ever. However sad that might make me.  
>Spoilers: One Last Score<strong>_

Tony/Guilt

The water from the shower is still hot on her lips when he kisses her. She tastes of the strawberry shampoo he can smell in her hair, as if his senses are getting confused and disorientated. His hand is cold, pressed against the bathroom tile behind her head, as he leans in closer.

It's just a kiss. Fairly chaste and over quickly, even though they moved slowly. Two single, consenting adults who are attracted to each other. And yes, there is Rule 12 to think of, but Tony knows as he looks at her, that the guilt he feels has nothing to do with rules and Gibbs and the fact they're coworkers.

He knows this because all he could think of while their lips were pressed together was that she should taste like honey, not strawberry, and that she was pliant instead of passionate, and that his fingers yearned to be playing with dark hair, not light.

So now he stands alone, having rejected her offer of dinner, with his cell phone in his hand, gazing down at the name he wants to call. His thumb hovers over the call button.

Then he remembers Ray and Rule 12 and that this is Ziva and him and it has never been that easy. He clenches his jaw, turns off the phone and drives home alone, the guilt eating at him all the way.


	2. JimmyScars

_**Disclaimer: *checks pockets* *looks under the sofa* *checks behind the fridge* No? Hmm, guess NCIS still isn't mine. How disappointing :(  
>Spoilers: None, but I do like that idea that Tony and Jimmy are secretly quite good friends.<br>A/N: Sorry if Jimmy is a bit OOC. He's a tough one to write.  
>Character: Jimmy.<br>Prompt: Scars**_

"Woah, Palmer, that's a nasty cut you got there."

"Huh?" Jimmy looked down at the hand that Tony was staring at and saw the long, straight slice on the back of his hand, between his thumb and forefinger. He'd forgotten about it, since it was about a week old, but now it itched and he said "Oh, that. Yeah, I was performing an incision on one of Dr Mallard's cadavers and got distracted. Ended up cutting straight through the back of the hand I was using to keep the body in place." He laughed. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

Tony snorted and patted him hard on the back, laughing. "Good job you're not operating on living people, that's all I'll say."

Jimmy grinned. "I couldn't store my ham and jelly sandwiches in the cadaver fridge if I did."

"That's… just disgusting."

"Oh, no, it's quite sterile, I mean, there's no body in there at the same time as-"

"Not the dead people Palmer. Ham and jelly? Who eats that?"

Jimmy looked affronted. "I do."

"Does it happen often? You cutting your hands instead of people?" Tony switched back to the original topic with such dizzying speed that Jimmy blinked a moment, and thought about it.

"Yes actually. Well, not as much as I used to. This is the first slip-up I've made in over a year. But back when I started I'd be listening to Dr Mallard's stories one moment then passing him the scalpel holding the wrong end the next. My hands are pretty much covered in scars."

"Easily distracted, that it?"

"Not as much as I used to be."

Tony grinned. "Getting better all the time kid."

Jimmy smiled and looked down at his hands, speckled with scar tissue. So what if he started off clumsy? One day, he swore, he'd be so good that not even Dr Mallard's story about the time he spent in a travelling circus would be enough to make him slip up. One day he would no longer be the assistant and the scars would be a reminder of how far he'd come.

He looked back up at Tony and smiled. "Getting better all the time. Damn straight."


	3. McGeeParty

_**A/N: Kate and Will got hitched in a right Royal shindig today, and being the Brit I am I obviously celebrated with great passion. Not because I'm overly Royally-patriotic (although she did look lovely) but because us Brits use any excuse to throw a good party. And the 4 day weekend? This is a happy country this weekend :) So, inspiration for a quick drabble comes from this party atmosphere.  
>Spoilers: None, this is a bit AU.<br>Character: McGee  
>Prompt: Party<strong>_

"Come on Timmy!" Abby cajoled. "Stop sitting on the bench and get up there and dance!"

McGee fiddled with his ear and looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Abby rolled her eyes. "It's a _wedding_. You're meant to get up on the dance floor, drink a bit too much and make a fool of yourself. That's what the best man _does_."

"I think I'll just go and get another coke." He stood up and tried to hurry away to the bar. "You want anything?"

Abby all but growled and shoved the palm of her hand into his chest. He stopped short and looked at her, biting his lip. She scowled at him, her high heels putting her at even height with him. She put a hand on her hip and even wearing a silky red and black dress she looked fearsome. McGee gulped.

"Listen Tim. You are going to go to that bar and order something with _alcohol_ in it. Then you are going to get that cute butt of yours onto the dance floor and dance with me. For at least three songs."

He blushed and stammered, "But Abby, I really can't dance and the last time-"

"Don't want to hear it!" She cut him off. "Go!"

"Yes ma'am."

A few minutes later McGee held two glasses of wine in his hand and passed one to Abby. "Cheers." They clinked glasses and drank, Tim gulping down a bit more than normal. He grinned shyly at her raised eyebrow. "Liquid courage." He said by way of explanation.

She smirked and put down her glass on the bar. Mischief playing on her lips she leant forwards and whispered into his ear, "You do realise that you're the best man at this wedding. And I'm the maid of honour. Traditionally speaking…"

McGee's eyes widened and he stared at Abby who let out a laugh full of promises and grabbed his hand. She smiled as she pulled him towards the dance floor. "Come on, Tim. You owe me a dance."

_**Reviews appreciated :) Hope you enjoyed it!**_


	4. ZivaGibbsFear

_**A/N: This can be taken however you want; friendship, family, romantic. Whatever floats your boat. I just love these two together in any scene. By the way, this is a bit longer than a usual drabble.  
>Spoilers: 8.23 - Swan Song<br>Characters: Ziva/Gibbs  
>Prompt: Fear (Ziva wasn't at the funeral... ever wonder why not?)<strong>_

Gibbs stepped down into the basement and found Ziva leaning against the workbench, waiting. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and took off his tie, throwing them without regard onto the table, saying nothing.

"I am sorry Gibbs." Her voice was quiet.

He didn't bother quoting Rule 6 at her; she knew it well. When he didn't say anything and just started pouring a glass of bourbon, she continued.

"I wanted to be there. I tried to..." Her words trailed off and she looked down in shame, angry and upset with herself, eyes wet. "I got as far as the cemetery. But when I saw everyone there, and the coffin, and the flag, I just could not..."

He stood silently in front of her, non-committal. She wrung her fingers round and round as if the movement would ease her thoughts, smooth away the emotion into something she could handle. The motion looked odd; Ziva was not the type to worry away with shaking hands but here she stood, so close to trembling, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

"I liked and respected Mike Franks. But when he got...when he died, it shocked me. It _scared_ me Gibbs. So much." She looked imploringly up at him. "He lived through everything, he survived _everything. _And then he did not anymore. I was scared, so scared I could not breathe. Sometimes I forget that you are not invincible, that Tony and McGee can die no matter how hard we try, so suddenly." The tears were falling without notice now, her voice, usually so strong and passionate, cracking and breaking like shattered glass. "I was so scared. It shook me and it should not. There has been worse... so much worse..."

A breath, hitched and uneven, her voice so quiet. "What is wrong with me Gibbs? Please..."

Gibbs stared at her for a long moment before saying, "Mike once told me something about fear. He said, a fool doesn't recognise the danger. Only a fool has no fear. A coward is ruled by fear. But someone with courage? With bravery? They live in spite of fear."

He rested one hand on her shoulder and used the other to bring her chin up so she gazed back at him through glistening eyes, so vulnerable. His hand moved up to rest on her tear streaked cheek. He spoke softly but firmly. "I know you Ziver. You are not a fool or a coward."

She returned his strong gaze silently, for a long moment, as if unsure whether or not to believe his words. She searched his eyes, looking deeper than ever before. With a sudden quiet exhale she gave in, closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

"Thank you." She whispered.

She might be scared and frightened and vulnerable, but in that moment, with Gibbs' calloused thumb stroking almost imperceptibly across her cheek, she began to feel something again which, for a while, she was sure she'd lost.

Hope.

_**Okay, so that was a bit long. Hopefully you enjoyed it though. Please review, it makes my day :) **_


	5. TonyGibbsDistraction

_**A/N: My first attempt at Tibbs. So hope it turned out okay.  
>Spoilers: None<br>Characters: Tony/Gibbs  
>Prompt: Distraction.<strong>_

Gibbs slapped Tony on the back of the head as walked past the sofa Tony was slouched on, dropping into the space next to him.

"Stop scratching."

Tony scowled at his boss and continued itching at his arm. "But it's so _itchy_."

Gibbs snorted. "Ignore it."

Tony lolled his head back and groaned wearily. "I'm trying. But it itches so badly. Not even James Bond can distract me." He waved a vague hand in the direction of the TV, his expression self-pitying.

"Tried the cream?"

"Yeah, and a fat lot of good that did." He growled at the offending item and went back to scratching. "Who knew chicken pox was so aggravating? You're lucky you had it as kid, boss. This is horrible."

Gibbs eyed Tony with a mixture of pity and humour. He genuinely did feel bad for him; he remembered that when Kelly had chicken pox it had been far milder than this. Cartoons and ice-cream had been enough to distract her from the itchy spots. Tony was having no such luck.

His constant whining was getting annoying though. Gibbs had to fight the urge to grab a pair of oven mitts and duct-tape them around Tony's hands to keep him from scratching. And maybe using a spare bit of tape over his mouth.

He entertained the mental image for a while but was interrupted by yet another groan from Tony.

"Stop scratching. " Gibbs repeated.

"Easier said than done when all I can think about is how bad it itches."

Gibbs smirked as an idea formed in his head. Tony was completely intent in reaching around to try and scratch his back, his head turned away from Gibbs.

So he didn't see it coming when Gibbs leant over and ran his lips over his neck.

Tony froze. Gibbs ignored him and carried on kissing his way up Tonys neck, until he reached his mouth, when he forcefully turned Tonys lips to his and carried on kissing.

Unable to resist straightaway, Tony responded, passionately. When Gibbs finally pulled away, Tony looked up at him apprehensively. "Boss? What just happened?"

Gibbs smirk was devilish. "I'm distracting you. Did it work?"

Tony smiled, leant in again and let his actions speak for him.

_**Reviews = love. **_


	6. ZivaRitual

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Take it you lot are Tibbs fans, huh? They are quite lovely together.  
>This ficlet is the product of insomnia and 2am stroll. Short but, hey. This is what a drabble collection is for, right? :)<br>Character: Ziva  
>Prompt: Ritual<strong>_

She ran. Her feet pounded on the dirt track with rhythmic ease, light but forceful, propelling her forwards. Each step was another chime of the metronome. Keep to the beat. Focus on the rhythm.

_Breathe. Thud. Thud. Thud. Breathe. Thud. Thud. Thud. _

The knot in her chest loosened as her heart rate steadied into a high pace. Her shoulders relaxed with the swing of her arms.

Most importantly, her thoughts began to clear. Her mind emptied of everything but the sound of her breathing and her feet flying across the ground. No distraction, no thought.

She boasted about speed and fitness and how far she could run and how long it took her. Truth was the fitness and speed were by-products. Added bonuses to the ritual of her morning run.

She allowed herself a small smile as she ran.

In her line of work, she may never have peace of mind.

But quietness? That was a different story.


	7. DuckyGibbsFashion

_**A/N: Gibbs and Ducky are awesome together. They make me laugh.  
>Spoilers: None<br>Characters: Ducky/Gibbs (with a bit Tony, 'cause I couldn't resist)  
>Prompt: Fashion<strong>_

"Oh dear, they get younger and younger. Such a tragic waste." Ducky remarked sadly as he made his way to the Petty Officer lying dead on the kitchen floor. "Only twenty. My poor boy, who did this to you?" He set his bag on the floor and knelt down to begin his examination.

"What you got for me Duck?"

"I've only just arrived Jethro, as you well know. However, my immediate impression is severe GSW to the chest, mostly likely from a shotgun."

Gibbs grunted and scribbled it down on his notepad. He gestured towards the dead man's jeans and asked "Struggle?"

"What makes you say that?"

"His jeans are all ripped and torn up. Big holes in 'em."

Ducky frowned and checked the skin around the holes and tears. No blood, not even a graze. He looked up at Gibbs and sighed, "Ah, destroyed for a cause I have never fully understood." As Gibbs raised a questioning eyebrow, Ducky explained. "Fashion Jethro. I do believe the trousers are designed this way. It's fashionable."

Gibbs stared at Ducky like he was mad. "He bought them with holes in?"

"Most likely. Unless he cut them in himself."

"Who buys clothes that are all torn up? That's like buying a coffee someone's spit in."

"It's trendy."

"It's stupid."

"Aye, to you and me it may seem like folly but I daresay this young man paid a fortune for them."

Gibbs shook his head and grunted. "Only an idiot would pay good money for those."

"Ooh, for a dead guy he's pretty well dressed. Are those Armani?" Tony said excitedly as he came into the kitchen. "Wonder if there's a tag…" He squatted down to inspect the jeans, swooning over them like a kid outside a candy store.

With a roll of his eyes, Gibbs slapped Tony on the back of the head.

"Ah! What was that for?"

"Being an idiot."

Tony looked to Ducky for an explanation, but the older man shrugged, smirking to himself. "Fashion makes a fool out of the best of us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't spit in his coffee."

Gibbs let out a bark of laughter at Ducky's remark, enjoying the bewildered expression on Tony's face, who was confusedly protesting his innocence. As Tony's confusion grew he laughed harder, and enjoyed every second of it.

_**Yay or nay? Let me know what you thought or give me a prompt. :) Thanks for reading. **_


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